


Turn to the Right

by imadra_blue



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Canon - TV, Character Study, Drama, M/M, POV Third Person, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody can look at another human being quite the same way Aaron Hotchner does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn to the Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rabidfangurl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rabidfangurl).



> **Disclaimer:** _Criminal Minds_ is the property of CBS. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> **Note:** Spoilers through recent episodes. Concrit is welcome on any of my fics.

It never happens on the job. Hotch defines professional, in most cases. His eyes narrow, focusing only on what matters: catching the unsub. There are exceptions, of course, but there are always exceptions. But once the job ends, Hotch changes. He softens, less the square-jawed hero, and more the quiet, brooding anti-hero. Reid finds him more interesting then. He can appreciate taciturn people, especially since he can never seem to shut up.

On the nights that Reid stays late, writing psychological evaluations on the monsters they catch, he leaves the building with Hotch. That is when it happens, when Hotch opens the door and studies Reid, his eyes alive and hot, dark spots in molten lava. Reid knows that look. He sees it in the way Morgan looks at a beautiful woman or even in the way Prentiss looks at Hotch. He tries not to compare it to the way unsubs look at victims, but the comparison can be made.

Reid never imagined anyone would look at him with such naked lust, much less someone like Hotch. He waits to be disgusted or repelled, but such feelings never come. Instead, finds himself intrigued by the possibility, by the attention focused solely at him. Even when Hotch looks at a beautiful blonde, the quality behind his lustful glances seems more restrained, as if Hotch fears they might break beneath his gaze. Reid wonders what it is about himself that makes Hotch look at him so. He feels awkward and ungainly in his own skin, and he sees nothing beautiful when he glances in the mirror. There is his mind, but he cannot imagine being looked at like that simply because Hotch appreciates his intelligence. The mystery behind Hotch's interest is as alluring as the interest itself.

Every night they leave at the same time, Hotch studies him with that unbridled intensity. But then he nods and murmurs a farewell, turning to the right outside the door, leaving Reid alone and untouched. Reid accepts that, accepts how the job works, the protocols, even the limitations of society's acceptance of non-heterosexuality. He lets Hotch leave with no more than a "good night"—at least until the evening when Hotch first returns to work, the grief from Hayley's death still stamped across his face.

Reid reaches out and grabs Hotch's wrist when he turns right. His leg aches from the sudden movement, but he has healed enough to ignore the pain now. Hotch glances back at him, slowly, almost reluctantly. The heat in his eyes has cooled since Foyett's attack, but Reid can still see interest elsewhere, in the twitch of Hotch's lips, the arch of his brow, the way his skin warms underneath Reid's fingertips.

"I'm glad you came back, Hotch," Reid says, not knowing what else to say. He lets Hotch's wrist go and studies him.

Hotch stares down at his wrist, his smile as fake as one worn by a surviving victim while politely letting them in for an interview. "Thank you, Reid. I appreciate that."

"Do you?"

Hotch glances up at him, and the heat returns to his dark gaze. "Yes."

Reid nods and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag. "Well."

Hotch does not speak, instead turning to leave again. It occurs to Reid that Hotch is as socially awkward as he is, only better at hiding it behind the thousand yard stare and firm jaw.

"Would you like to go have a drink? Together, I mean. Not on your own. With me." Reid sighs. Thoughts lay out so neatly in his head, but when he tries to form them into words, they jumble together into a pile of adolescent ramblings.

Hotch pauses, but does not turn back. All the same, Reid can see his shoulders bunch. "Am I that obvious?"

"Just to me. And the rest of the team."

Hotch shakes his head. "The danger of working with a team of profilers. I appreciate the offer, but I can't. Not yet. Ask me in a month." He glances back again, his expression regretful. "I mean that. A month. To the date."

Reid smiles. "I'll remember. To the date. I can remember it to the second, if you want."

"I have no doubt of that. Good night."

"Yeah. Good night, Hotch."

Hotch walks away again, but this time, Reid does not feel so alone. He watches Hotch recede into the distance before turning to the left to find his own vehicle.

 

_End._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In Two Hours (And Not a Minute Later)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903261) by [dissolvedingirl (imadra_blue)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/dissolvedingirl)




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